


The Reason I Stay

by redeyedwrath



Series: Sterek Week 2016 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Feels, M/M, Sterek Week 2016, The Summer of 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyedwrath/pseuds/redeyedwrath
Summary: "For some reason, Derek doesn't want Stiles to see his failures all in one place."





	

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHOSE BIRTHDAY IT IS PEOPLE??? THAT’S RIGHT, MINE!!! 
> 
> *coughs* Anyway, have this pretentious drabble I wrote for Sterek week. I hope y’all like it ^^

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Derek jumps. He hadn't heard Stiles approach the porch, hadn't seen him either. In retrospect it seems weird, because Stiles heart is pounding so hard it's almost like it wants to burst out of his chest.

Stiles smiles, the small, lopsided one, and Derek swallows. Stiles’ hair is longer, smoothing out the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Derek glances down. Stiles’ socks are striped. It makes him seem more human, somehow. More like the breakable teenager he is, instead of the strong, determined figure that saved him from drowning.

The smell of ash in Derek’s nose blends with chlorine and he has to hold his claws back.

“What’re you doing here,” he says, voice hoarse. He hasn't said a word since summer holidays started and no one had a reason to be around him anymore. He looks at his home - former home, _your fault your fault_ \- and debates the merits of talking to Stiles versus jumping into the basement and never coming out.

“Nothing,” Stiles says, eyes widening as he wrings his hands together, the too big sleeves covering most of them. Derek pretends he doesn't hear the jump in his heartbeat.

“You can go, then.”

It hurts to say it, more than Derek expected. He tells himself it's because he hasn't seen anyone in weeks, not because Stiles’ smell turns faintly hurt and his eyes stray from Derek to the house. For some reason, Derek doesn't want Stiles to see his failures all in one place. He’d thought he could fix it, had started throwing out the rubble before he fell through the floorboards. It’s useless.

“What if I don't want to?” Stiles asks, voice small as he kicks at a piece of rubble lying next to his foot, a small cloud of ash engulfing his leg. It’s so far from what Derek had expected him to say that his head snaps up. Derek remembers when Stiles wanted to leave him for dead. It hasn’t even been a year.

Derek shrugs and tries to look casual instead of threatening. “You can stay. If you want.”

Stiles smiles again, a little less lopsided this time, and Derek watches the skin stretch tight over his cheekbones, the softness of childhood replaced by sharp angles and hairy forearms. Something in Derek wants to _bite_. Instead, he walks back into the house and grabs another bag filled with the rubble of what used to be the kitchen table. Under the ash, it still smells like Laura and his mom.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Derek shrugs and lets one of his fangs slice his lip, the copper taste of his own blood reminding him to ignore the strange compulsion he has to tell Stiles everything he does, everything he is. Stiles doesn’t even shoot him a glare, and the contrast with the old Stiles makes Derek’s stomach twist. It’s like five years passed in two months. At least for Stiles.

Stiles approaches him cautiously, like he’s afraid Derek’s going to throw him into a tree and Derek winces. He only has himself to blame for that. “I’m just worried about you, man.”

Derek drops the bag he’s holding. He can’t - he can’t _remember_ the last time someone was worried about him. After the fire Laura had been to busy trying to fix them and Derek was too busy trying to fix himself, and instead of helping her he’d gotten a tattoo and started drinking and even then Laura was too busy with keeping them out of the wrong hands.

Stiles pales. “Sorry if I overstepped a boundary, I didn’t mean to, I was just-”

Derek holds up his hand, and Stiles’ mouth snaps closed. The pounding of Stiles’ heart - usually an annoying, constantly changing rhythm - seems frightfully soothing now. The planks of the porch creak when he sits down on it, and he watches Stiles bite his nails from the corner of his eyes, a nervous habit that he hasn’t fully grown out of.

“Thanks,” Derek manages to choke out. Stiles’ eyes snap to his and he watches, helpless, as Stiles shuffles forward until they’re sitting side by side. A month ago - maybe even a week ago - Derek would’ve thrown Stiles off. Now he just sits silently and waits until Stiles doesn’t smell as much like nerves and anxiety.

Stiles’ hand slowly inches closer to his, until they’re so close Derek can feel the warmth radiating from Stiles. Both their heartbeats are going all over the place, and Derek releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Stiles’ pinky finger covers his.

“Thanks,” he says again as he slides his hand further under Stiles’ until they can thread their fingers together. Stiles’ answering smile is brilliant.

“No problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are interested: I turned seventeen today. Aren’t I a small, innocent child. Emphasis on innocent.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it! Please lemme know what you thought ^^
> 
> [Yooo come celebrate my birthday with me on Tumblr!!!](http://demisexualhale.tumblr.com)


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